Entertainment
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: Edward's entertainment may have fallen through, but he still found Entertainment. Entertainment in the form of Charlie Davis. (AU for Crossing the line, Multichapter, now with cover image!)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hahahaha a chapter fic? Why yes it is. This fic will have either two or three parts, depending on how I feel. Here's part one, it's literally just Charlie getting beat the fuck up. But tbh, who doesn't love a bit of mindless violence in their life? As per usual, please leave a comment if you like, I love to read them! I'm sorry that this isn't one hundred percent medically accurate, any comments questions or concerns, feel free to contact me!

He was doomed and he knew it. There was no way for him to get past Tyneman bloody thugs. Three of them, one of him. But that didn't mean he couldn't try, of course. When he was sixteen, he could knock down a man twice his height if he wanted. When he was eighteen, he won more fights then he lost. But he wasn't that kid anymore. He was Charlie Davis, who gave up on picking fights to become a police man and support his mum. Charlie Davis, who could outrun any criminal who got in his way. Charlie Davis, who was going to become the youngest police superintendent that the force ever knew. He stood a little taller, and then clenched and uncleched his left hand. "I'll go then, shall I?' he asked, seeing no way out of his current predicament.

"I think that would be best." Edward replied. Charlie walked past one of his friends, while the other blocked his path. Before he could do anything, the one with the ugly diamond jumper grabbed his head from behind, and put his face through the glass window.

He isn't awake for much longer after that.

When he wakes up, he's shocked to find he care barely move. His hands have been bound in front of him by a tie, and he can guess the same thing has happened to his ankles. He blinks slowly, and looks up, only to discover that he's been gagged as well. He tries to talk but it comes out broken and slurred. "Boys! He's awake." An amused voice above him comments. It's Tyneman. He's sitting on a barstool and looking at Charlie's wallet. He tries to move but his attempt it stopped by diamond jumper, who's white jumper is now stained with blood, his blood. "Charles Davis." he said, looking at Charlie's drivers license. "You're twenty five years old. Fascinating. Here boys, have a look at his photo." Edward jeers, showing the admittedly awful photo of him. Some chuckle. Vincent looks ill.

In his defense, he had virtually dragged himself off his deathbed when that photo was taken. He'd been so ill at the time he could barely hold himself up right.

"Also looks like some cards in here. One for...Lucien Blake. Matthew Lawson. A boarding house. Hm. I'm not sure you're who you say you are..." He said, and opened the inside pannel. "Ahh! A family photo. How lovely." The photo was taken about a year ago, and had Charlie, his mother and two younger brothers in it." Looks like Charles here's the man of the house." He commented. Charlie wanted to punch his face in. If he had a shilling for every time he'd heard that in his life then he'd probably be able to pay off all his debts. "Doesn't look like your father is really in the picture.' He smiled. Charlie can see the rest of the contents of his pockets up on the counter. His keyring. (House keys for Melbourne, key to his mums car. Key to the police car he normally drove. Key to his desk. Key to his room in the boarding house.) As well as about five quid and a button that he needed to get put back on his police jacket.

"My entertainment might have fallen though, but then, you were dropped right in my lap, Charles." Edward commented, standing and pacing around the downed constable on the floor. "And I wonder, what will we do?" He asked, "I think that the...Man of the night should start us off." He smiled, and Charlie's eyes drift up to Vincent. Diamond shirt is still sitting on him, he can't get away.

"I think I'm alright.' Vincent said, looking distinctly away from Charlie.

"No, no. You have to.' Edward smiled, and passes the man what looks like the leg from a barstool. "Aim for the leg." He offers. Vincent looks to be blinking back tears, and Charlie silently forgives the man. He knows this feeling. He's been in those shoes. Doesn't make the sound of his own leg breaking any easier to hear. Mercifully, Vincent didn't aim for the knee. That would have crippled him. His life would be over. His career would be over. He did aim for the lower leg. It took him almost six goes of heaving and yelling to break the bone.

It's agony at first, but after that, he has no feeling in his leg. Diamond Shirt starts to smoke. Edward watches passively. Charlie has started to pant, from struggling to get enough air past the makeshift gag in his mouth. Diamond shirt shoots Edward a look. He nods, and the man kneels, grabbing Charlie by the chin and breathing smoke right into his face and into his mouth and nose. Like most people smoking for the first time, he chokes on it, and his body is overcome by choking coughs. He does it again and again. Vincent has to look away as Charlie hacks and hacks until he's sick. Edward raised his eyebrows, and smiles. "When you're done...Put it out." He smiled. Diamond shirt nods, and puts it out under Charlie's left eye. Charlie screams into his gag.

"I think he's had enough." Vincent stammers, looking much more sober then he had an hour ago. "Let him go, I'll take him to emergency." he said. Edward looks at him sideways and Charlie wants to crack his skull.

"He's my entertainment, is he not?" Edward asks, "I'll decide when he's had enough." He sneers, "Pass me the leg." Charlie wonders what's next. Edward stands, and smiled at Charlie, who had curled up onto his side in attempt to defend his stomach from injury. He tried to pull his head in close as well. Edward smirks at him, and nods at diamond shirt to grab Charlie by the neck so he couldn't pull himself up. He lines the shot up with where he expects Charlie's navel to be, and then brings the stick up, aiming it like a golf club. He drives it hard into his delicate organs. He pulls back. He hits again And again. And again. A total of six times. Charlie's body tries to expel whatever the contents of his stomach is, but he can't get it past the gag. He realizes that he's going to choke to death.

Vincent leans down to loosen it. Edward finally stops to look at him. "Well you don't want him to die, do you?" He shoots, as Charlie chokes and splutters and tried to get his body under control.

"Not yet, I suppose." Edward commented, taking another swing at Charlie's stomach before stepping back to look at him again. He let out a soft sigh, and took a seat. Charlie tries to regain control of his poor body, but really can't. Why are they doing this to him? He wonders, gazing up at Vincent. For some reason, the 'Buck' was on his side. Or maybe he was just a decent human being who didn't like seeing someone else being beaten.

He didn't really know for sure. He's not sure he wan't to know, either.

Diamond jumper sighs and puts his second smoke out on Charlie's left shoulder. Charlie screams again. It burns. He arches his back. He twists his hands. Edward nods, and the brown vest takes off the gag. "What the Hell are you doing?!" He shouts, as soon as it's out of his mouth. "Let me go!" He shouts. The music from next door stops, and all the men look at one another.

"Take him to the back room." Edward tells brown vest and diamond jumper. They both nod and drag Charlie into the back room, and re gag him.

He opens the door, revealing Mattie standing there with Amelia.

"Is everything...Okay?" She asks, she looks around. There's a small puddle on the floor towards the center of the room.

"Of course." Edward replies, with false cheeriness. "One of the ah, barstools broke..And was a little too much for our friends stomach...What was his name..Charles? He's gone home now, so don't worry." Mattie nods. She can't imagine Charlie getting drunk. She can't imagine him leaving without his keys and wallet. It's suspicious to her, his being here altogether was. She can see a broken door to the back room, and some men bent over something. She makes a choice then and there to call Lawson. Something was terribly wrong with Charlie. She could feel it.

"I can take those for him, if you like?" She offered, pointing at his keys and wallet. "He's due in at the hospital tomorrow for some injections." She lies. Edward shrugs, and hands them over to her.

"Thanks."She said, and turned around, leading Amelia away.

The room with the projector is small. People are on him from all angles. Someone kicks his broken leg and he screams He screams louder and louder until Edward kicks him in the stomach to shut him up. He groans softly but takes the hint. He stops talking.

He heard her. He heard O'Brian. He tried to make enough noise she would hear him. She didn't. He was suddenly certain that he was going to die here.

As if he can sense Charlie's thoughts, Edward lowered himself down, and takes his hands, lifting them up. Charlie tries to make claws with his fingers, lash out at him. "Doesn't look like this cat's had his claws done." Edward commented, grabbing the tip of one of Charlie's fingers, and then bending it back. Charlie tried to fight back against him, to no avail. Edward bends his finger so far back that it breaks. Charlie screams. He cries. Edward breaks all the fingers on Charlie's left hand, one at a time. He relizes that there's not hope for him after this. He has no future as a police man. No job. No way to pay his debts. He'd die here or he'd died out there.

He stops struggling after that. His fingers ache, every small movement, even breathing hurts him. He wonders if it will ever end. Surely they can't go on forever. It won't, but one night feels longer when there's no way to tell the time.

It all goes rather downhill, when Edward takes his pocket knife, and decides to wedge the small blade up under the fingernails on his good hand until they crack. He has begun to cry. He can feel the wetness on his face. He hadn't noticed until then.

Edward stops and wipes the tears away. "Oh no. Seems that he's sprung a leak, boys. Does he still float?" If he'd been in less pain, Charlie would probably have heard the sinister note in his voice, but as it is, he really doesn't. And he really doesn't care much either. He just wants to drift away from it all. Leave his body here and go find a calm place to stay. He feels like he's watching his own body on the floor, as it takes a beating, and he's rather away from it, watching on like a ghost.

"Do you think he'll still float?" Edward asked, cheerfully. Again, it's like he's reading Charlie's mind and that scares him. It scares him so much. He breathes heavily. Diamond jumper leaves. Edward lines his barstool up with Charlie's head. Charlie cries harder, suddenly pulled back down to earth.

Diamond jumper returns with a tray of glasses of water, as well as one glass of beer. Charlie wonders if all of this was planned. He wants to go home. Brown vest grabs him by the hair and tilts his head back. He chokes slightly. Edward offers the up to Vincent. He still looks so pale. Charlie wishes he had it in him to feel bad for the guy. He pours it onto Charlie, as Diamond jumper blocks his nose and it's suddenly everywhere.

In his nose, his mouth, his eyes, he can't breathe, he can't see, and it wont stop. Someone cheers for him to keep going. Edward sips the beer cheerfully. Charlie wishes, somewhat, that he was dead. Anything would be better then this.

He's starting to lose his vision, the edges tinged black by the time it stops. Brown vest pinches his nose while he tries to breathe though the gag. He chokes and cries and his body convulses. His lungs bg for air. His 'good' hand clenches and unclenches. And suddenly, he feels a searing pain in his left temple, and the whole world goes a little fuzzy.

Again.

And again

And then it stops, and he can hear someone calling his name.

The whole world is fuzzy, people are shouting. A face comes into view, then, a police man, he's wearing a hat. There's no future left for him in the police force, not now. He blearily tries to make the figure out, but can't quite. He realizes, slowly, that he must have a skull fracture or something. Or a concussion. Can you die from concussion, he wonders, starring up into his saviours face. The distant shouting becomes louder, and louder.

"Stay with me, Davis!" The voice above him says, as the world fades in and out, "Stay with me, come on!' It's funny. He must be dying, because that voice...It sounded a lot like Lawson.


	2. Chapter 2

The phone rings. Jean, naturally answers it, as she always seems to do. "Lucien?" She called, "It's Matthew...He wants to know how drunk you are." Blake picked up the phone on his desk,

"Thank you, Jean!" He called, before he addressed Lawson. "Matthew."

"Are you drunk?"

"No, I don't think so, but I have had a fair bit to drink. Why?"

"It's Charlie."

"What's happened?" Blake asked.  
"I can't really talk about it over the phone. Provided you aren't falling down drunk, I think it's important that you get down here." Blake was quiet for a moment before standing. "

"I'll be right there, Matthew, thank you." He said, before hanging the phone up quickly.

…

He held Davis close to his chest for a moment, trying to see I he was even still alive or not. His face was covered in dozens of smaller cuts, and he was getting blood all over Lawson's shirt but he didn't care at this point because he had an injured young man in his arms and he had no idea what to do. The men from the party were being rounded up by the two officers that had been on duty around here, on their way back from Narennia. "Davis?" he demanded, trying to get some sort of response from the still man in his arms. He couldn't even get him to open his eyes. Mattie seemed frozen in place. She'd known something was very, incredibly wrong, but she hadn't expected to find this. How could she possibly have expected to find this?  
"Matthew?" She said, softly.  
"He's alive." Lawson confirmed, "How do we move him?"

"I have no idea. His leg is broken." She said, softly, pointing a shaking finger at Charlie's leg, which was clearly broken, and twisted to an angle.

"How would you move him at the hospital?"

"We'd have a gurney…But there's no way the ambulance boys could get one in here. "

"Then I'll have to pick him up." Lawson decides because he can feel that Charlie doesn't have a lot of time left if they don't act right now so he stands up, and takes Charlie into a bridal hold. Charlie gives a soft moan when the movement jostles him but otherwise doesn't give much response. Mattie gently takes his hands, and sets then on his chest. She visibly pales when she sees the broken fingers.

"Oh God." She murmured, as she stepped back to let Lawson pass.

…

Blake walked into the hospital as fast as he could, coat blowing behind him like some kind of cape as Mattie ran up to him, still in her dress from the party.

"He's through here." She said, pulling him down the hall and into one of the rooms with a police man standing outside.  
Blake was totally speechless when he entered. Charlie lay perfectly still, one hand was still on his chest, the fingers mangled and the nails spit. His leg sat at an awkward angle, his nose was broken, if his shirt had been neat once, he couldn't tell now. Even his hair seemed tangled and matted with blood.

"My God." Blake said, finally. He has no idea what to do or how to respond for a long, long moment.

"Blake?"Lawson demands, clicking his fingers in front of his face. "What do we do?" He asked. Blake put his doctors bag down on the chair and turned to face Mattie.  
"What happened?"  
"He was beaten."

"Obviously."

"What do we do?" Lawson repeated. Blake stroked his chin for a long moment before looking back at Charlie.  
"Prep for theater."

"Is he going to live?" Lawson asked, looking back at Charlie.  
"We can but hope."Blake decided, and shooed Lawson from the room.

…

He's in there for hours. Lawson paces, and thinks about what he's going to tell Charlie's mother, and he paces and sits and paces again. It's nerve wracking. He wanders around before sitting again and sighing. He can see the sun starting to come up over the horizon. He's so tired he's struggling to keep his eyes open, but every time he closes, Charlie's broken and mangled body flashes past his eyes, startling him into opening them again. He wonders what they could have done to him to have him in surgery this long.

Close to five thirty in the morning, Blake walks out, he looks tired and run down as well. "He's out of surgery." He tells Lawson, "We did our best, but now it's up to him if he lives or not." Lawson sighs, and looked at the badge on his hat for a moment.  
"Are you going to see him?" Blake nods. Lawson sighs, and followed after him.

…

Charlie hardly looks any better then when he came in, Blake thinks, sitting in one of the visitors seats. His face was bruised and damaged. His fingers had been splinted up, but they were still purple and damaged. His leg that they had tried so hard to save was up in a traction, the cast thick and white around it. His toes were visible, but they were so white that he had checked at least twice to make sure that they were getting a blood flow. Aside from being badly concussed, he's put Charlie onto oxygen as well. Lawson sits heavily, and so does he, after a moment.  
"So you think he'll live?"

"Live, yes."  
"But?"

"I highly doubt he'll ever go back to being a police officer." Lawson gives him a slight frown. Blake points at Charlie's leg. "The fracture. We did our best, but he'll be hobbled for the rest of his life." Lawson looks very angry for a minute. Angry enough that Blake actually leans back.  
"I'm going to go and do that to Edward Tyneman and his cronnies."

"Sit down, Matthew. You being sent to jail for assault won't help anyone."

"They've ruined his life."

"He'll still be able to live a normal life, have kids and get married, all that."

"He's just a kid. A child." Lawson said, sitting back down and sighing at Charlie.

"He's twenty six."

"A child."

"A young man." Lawson puts his face in his hands for a moment.

"This isn't the first police man that I've seen in hospital. Why am I so angry?"

"Because you were there. You saw him."

"I wish I saw him earlier."

"I know." Blake sighed, and sat back in his chair. "Go home, get some sleep. I'll make sure nothing happens to him." Lawson nods, and takes his leave. Blake ran his fingers over Charlie's face. Small scars littered his nose and cheekbones, from where he assumes he was put though some kind of window. Even though he had a vague idea of what Charlie had been through, something told him there was a bit more too it then that. He took Charlie's hand in his own and sighed,

"What on earth did they do to you?" He asks, and tried to pretend that he didn't feel guilty.

…

Charlie Davis looks nothing like his mother. Charlie had a soft, slightly round face, thin lips, dark hair and grim greyish eyes. The woman in front of him tells Lawson that Charlie probably takes after his father looks wise. His mother is tall, has a sharp and well defined jawline, high cheek bones that rivaled his own, and eyes that, while very blue, held a warmth within them. Like sunlight though a glass of water. Or at least, he thinks that they would be warm, if she wasn't so pale faced and grim looking. It was easy to see that she had been beautiful once, but she looked like time and effort had sucked all the life from her features, rendering her worn out and worn down looking. Much like he himself, he ponders, as he lead the woman though the halls to the room they had put Charlie in. She introduced herself as Astra Davis. She didn't sound Australian, but she had an accent he couldn't place. (Charlie didn't have an accent. ) Behind her, are three other children. A very young child, who had to only have been three or four, a young teenager and an older teenager, all with equally worried masks covering their faces. Each child looked like a mix of Charlie and his mother, except for the littlest one, who didn't resemble either of them. Thinking back, Lawson realized it was because this child had a different father, but he didn't really consider it at the time. He let her into the room, and she threw herself onto the bed, screaming at both Blake and him.

"What have you done to him?!" She screamed, as he and Blake tried to make sure she didn't hurt any of Charlie's ruptured organs or jostle his fingers. "My baby!" She shouted, as they pulled her away. "What have you done to my baby." She cried, the eldest child gathered the smallest up into his arms, and after a moment, Lawson took them both out of the room.

He took them to the cafeteria, and sat, holding one child, and the other two sitting next to him, one very intent on seeing how much water he could possibly drink in one mouthful. He decided to bite the bullet and talk to them. They were just kids. "I'm uh. I'm Matthew." He introduced himself. It felt a bit funny saying his own name. Probably a sign he spent to much time at work.

"I'm Greg. That's Andy." He said, pointing at the smaller child. "And that's John."

"Nice to meet you." He offers.  
"Mum says that Charlie's not well." Greg says, stirring around the ice in his cup.

"He's not." Lawson says softly.

"Is he going to have to stay in Ballarat for very much longer?"

"Probably." Lawson sighs, shifting the smaller child so he can put his head on his chest rather then his shoulder blade. The child doesn't protest and just sighs softly.

"Mum wants him to come home real soon." Greg says, "She wants to take him with us...We're only gonna be here for a day.'

"I don't think you can take him home yet. He's very sick."

Greg nods, and finishes his drink. "He looked really bad." Lawson nodded and ruffled Greg's hair.  
"Your brother's a fighter, kid." He said, looking down to realize that Andy had fallen asleep. Greg shrugged.  
"People always say that. He hates that." Greg offered. Lawson sighed softly. They lapse into quiet, Greg gets a second glass of water and the child on his chest breathes softly.

They walk back to Charlie's room within the hour. He holds Greg's hand, and watches, vaguely amused as the child does his best not to step on the cracks, while carrying the smaller one in his arms. He thinks, not for the first time in his life, that maybe he should have had more children.

…

Calming Charlie's mother down was a task and a half. But eventually, Blake did get her to sit in a chair and take some deep breaths. She took Charlie's good hand in her own, and tried to hold back tears. Blake sat next to her, and didn't say anything. "What happened?" She asked, after a long, long moment. He sighed.

"It's a long story." She looked at Charlie and then at Blake.

"I don't think he's going anywhere, Doctor." Blake nodded, and looked at her.

"He went to investigate a party that was connected to a case."

"The projectionist?"

"How did you…."

"He calls me every night… He tells me all about his work." She murmured. Blake nodded,  
"And while he was there, it appears that he got into an altercation with some of the suspects."

"Not my baby." She said, "He promised me, he promised me he wouldn't get into any more fights." She said, pressing his hand to her forehead. "I told him.." She said, softly. He gently put a hand on her shoulder.  
"I don't think he was the one who started the fight."

"They beat him." She said, clutching Charlie's hand between her two smaller ones. "I thought…I always thought that if he was Australian, then people would leave him alone. He's so much like his father." She said, "Always wants to do things by himself. Always, since he was a baby." She said, quietly. She spoke in unconnected sentences. Like she was trying to organize it. He let her talk, They must have sat there for half an hour before she spoke again. "Doctor...Will I be able to take him home with me?" Blake looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head. Astra nodded, and wiped at her eyes. Blake offered her his hankerchief.  
"Here." He murmured. She wiped her eyes and looked at him expectantly. "He's going to need someone to look after him all the time." He explained. "And he needs a doctor or nurse to help with bandages and prevent infections." She nodded, and started to wipe her eyes again.

"We can't afford that." She said, softly.

"I can." She shook her head and tightened her grip on Charlie's hand.

"We couldn't ask that of you. We don't know you."

"I don't know what Charlie's been telling you, but I am a good doctor. And I'm on your side." She nodded, and looked at him for a long time, as if she was trying to get a feeling of him, before she finally nodded.

"You'll take good care of him."

"Yes, I will. Of course I will." Astra dabbed at her eyes again.  
"He always has nice things to say about you, Doctor Blake." That surprised Blake because he cannot think of one moment where he ever got the feeling that Charlie liked him.

"Lucien, please." He said, kindly. Astra finally seems to relax a bit.

"Will you tell me...What will happen to him now?"

"Well…He'll stay here while he recovers, initially. Then he'll come and stay with me and my family." She nods.

"And then he can go back to being a police man?" She asked. Blake looked down. She wiped her eyes again.

"We did our best to save his leg, and we did, but he'll probably need to walk with a cane."

"What will he do then?" She asked.

"I don't know. I think we should just take it one day at a time." She sighs, and wipes her face again, even though no new tears have fallen.

"And the people who did this too him?"

"They will be punished, don't worry."

"They won't hang, though will they?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Too bad." She murmured, and looked down at his good hand.

…

Charlie's mother and brothers stayed in town for another week. Charlie does wake up, but he's hardly awake enough to hold on a conversation or talk to anyone. He can manage murmurs and whispers, but Blake can tell that he's trying his best to appear strong for his poor mother. When she goes back to Melbourne (At Charlie's request, because his brothers had to go back to school, and she had to go back to work) it was almost like he totally deflated. Blake had taken up a semi permanent spot in the chair on the left. He was only allowed two visitors at any one time, in case he got overwhelmed, so Blake got to know most of Charlie's brothers pretty well. Even Mrs Beazley made a few visits, if mostly just to see the Doctor more then Charlie. If he even noticed, Charlie never said anything about it.

It's not until very late when Mattie finally comes to see him. After assisting Blake when he was first brought in, Mattie had made a point of not coming to see him. He patted the chair next to him, but she shook her head. Charlie was asleep, again, but at least it looked restful. She stood by the window, looking over at him. Blake doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to, because she talks a moment later.

"I should have stopped him.'

"You saved him, Mattie."

"But I could have stopped it all together. I knew he wasn't meant to be there. I knew that he was going to get in trouble with Tyneman. I should have told him to stop meddling and go home."

"Did he talk to you?"

"He asked me what was going on. He wished me a good night."  
"You can't blame yourself, Mattie."

"But how can I not, when I may as well have beat him myself."  
"Did you?"

"No."  
"Did you leave him to suffer?"  
"No."

"You followed your instincts. And because of you, Charlie's still alive."

"And crippled."

"But alive." Mattie sat heavily on the chair next to him.

"Will he blame me?"

"No. Of course he won't."

"How would you know?"

"When he was awake, before, he wanted to know if you were alright. He hadn't seen you, and he thought that Tyneman might have got you as well."

"No one told him?"

"No one had time."

"So he doesn't hate me?"

"No. " Mattie sighed again and looked at him.  
"Have you been home today?"  
"I was just leaving."

"Can I get a lift?" She asked, softly. Blake nodded.  
"Of course. "  
...

As far as Charlie can see, it's humiliating. He can't do anything for himself. He can't get up and move around. Can't hold anything, can't even bathe himself. He feels like a child. And in all fairness, he hasn't been a child since he was ten years old. He just keeps telling himself that he'll be back at work before he knows it.

"Good morning, Charlie.' Blake smiles, and Charlie would be lying if he said that he didn't want to punch the smile off of his face. There was nothing good about this morning.

"What's good about it?" He asked, as Blake picked up his bad hand to look it over.

"What's put you in a bad mood?" Blake asked, still cheeful as ever.

"My hips hurt from the traction, my stomach hurts because you cut me open, my face hurts because I have a fractured eye socket and I'm talking with a lisp."

"I'll up your pain killers." Blake promised, and helped Charlie sit upright with some pillows.

"Is it a bit sad that sitting upright is the highlight of my day?" He asked. Blake patted him on the shoulder and smiled.

"A little, but don't worry too much, your leg will be better before you know it."

"And I'll be back to the station, I hope." Blake started unwrapping Charlie's bandage and didn't really have the heart to tell him that he probably isn't going back to the station.

"Of course." Blake smiled, and started to look at the wound. It was healing fairly well. And Charlie seemed to be getting a bit more active. Even though he was making a text book recovery, Blake wasn't sure how to tell him that he was going to be using a cane. He didn't want to break his heart, not after he'd been though so much already.

"Looks like you're healing well, Charlie."  
"Oh good." Charlie said, as Blake wrapped him back up, and then helped him lie down again.

"Has Mum called you?"

"Yes. She wishes you well and wants me to tell you that your eldest brother is getting straight As at school."Charlie puffed up his chest like a peacock and settled back happily.

"Good." He smiled, and settled as Blake held the cup up to his lips. "You know I do have a good hand." He protested weakly, before accepting the drink from the doctor. Blake smiled, but didn't say anything else.  
"I know you do." he said, but he could see the whole exchange had drained Charlie of all his energy and despite his best attempts to put up a brave face, he was being worn down. He settled back down onto the pillows with little complaint.

"How's Lawson? I haven't seen him all week."

"Busy making his case against Tyneman. He said he'd come in this afternoon, I decided you were well enough for an official statement regarding the case." Charlie's face paled rather suddenly, and he gave a shaky nod.  
"Alright."

"If you aren't ready, then I can tell him to hold off on it."

"No, no. I'll be alright." He said. Blake patted Charlie's good cheek and sat down next to him, taking Charlie's hand in his own.

"Aside from the aches and pains, how are you doing, Charlie?"

"I don't really know. I seem to be asleep all the time."  
"Any nightmares?" Charlie gave him a weary smile.

"Silly question." He said.

"Mostly whatever those drugs you give me don't give me any dreams."

"But when you do?" Charlie nodded, and sighed quietly. Blake looked at him for a moment. "You don't have to put on such a brave face. You're allowed to be hurt."

"Will that get me out of bed faster?" And Blake knows he has to tell him.

"Your leg was broken very badly." Blake said, and Charlie bit his bottom lip. He can feel the muscles in his hand twitch.

"but it'll heal right? I'll be able to run, won't I?" Blake hangs his head, and when he looks up, Charlie has tears sparkling in his eyes.

"No. You'll likely have to use a cane."

"For the rest of my life?" Blake nods. "I'm only twenty six...I still have so much of my life left..."

"You won't be miserable forever, Charlie." He made a little choking noise. Blake dabbed at his eyes for him with a hankerchief.  
"Thanks Doc." He murmured, but didn't say much else, after that.

…

True to his word, Lawson came in that afternoon to see him. Charlie seemed to be out of it, he normally was by the afternoon. Staying awake too long left him feeling tired, and despite his brave face, he was less and less active.

"Hello, Davis." Lawson said, sitting next to him. Charlie nodded a slight hello.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Bored. Sad. Sometimes all three at once."

"Cheery, as always." Charlie gave him a grim smile. "Doc says that you wanted me to give a statement."

"Yes. Are you...okay with that?"

"Of course, yes."

"Alright." Lawson nodded.

"Why were you at the Carringbush Hotel on the night of the third of June?"

"I was following up on a lead in an investigation into the death of Adam Summers."  
"Did anyone see you going into the building?"

"Yes. I spoke with Mattie..Sorry, Matilda O'Brian before going in."  
"What happened prior to your attack?"

"I spoke with Mr Tyneman briefly, I had a bit to drink, before I went behind the bar to look around."

"Alright."

"He confronted me, and I attempted to leave, peacefully."

"They started the confrontation?"

"Yes." Lawson nodded.

"What happened next? Take your time."

"The one with the diamond jumper. He got me from behind, and he put my face though the glass pane of the do not enter room." Lawson nodded. "I woke up, and they tied my feet together, and they put something in my mouth as well." Blake gently took hold of Charlie's hand. "They had the leg of the barstool, and they beat me with it. They put cigarettes out on me. Vincent….He was the one who broke my leg, but only because Tyneman threatened him." he muttered.

"Alright." Lawson nodded, writing it down carefully.

"Then it all gets sort of...Blurred. I know they hurt me but I sort of lose track of who did what."

"Head injury." Blake nods, looking to Lawson. Lawson nodded and scribbled that down. Charlie looked very pale and slightly teary. Blake gives him a look and a nod. Lawson nods as well and closes his notepad.

'Thank you, Davis." He sighs. Charlie nodded. Blake stood, and led Matthew out, before sitting next to Charlie. After a moment, he dabbed at Charlie's eyes with his handkerchief. Charlie found himself laughing slightly, despite himself.

"I can wipe my own eyes." He mumbled,  
"I know. " Blake said, calmly, "But as your doctor, it's my job to look after you."

"Ah." Charlie murmured, before laying back again on the pillow. Blake gently tucked him under the blankets with a small smile.  
"Thanks." Charlie sighed, before looking hopelessly towards the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing...I just...Oh I don't know." Charlie admitted. "I just feel sad, that's all."

"Well you did almost die." Blake said, after a moment.

"I suppose."

'And you have every right to be sad."

"Thanks Doc." He said, feeling rather like a broken record. Blake sighed softly, and stood. "You...You don't have to leave." Charlie said, finally.

"You want me to stay?"

"I wouldn't...I wouldn't mind." He murmured. After a second, Blake sat back down, and took Charlie's hand again. Charlie didn't look any happier, but at least he didn't look as utterly broken as he had before.

…

He is eventually allowed to get out of bed. Once Blake is sure that nothing inside of him will rupture or break, he is allowed to sit in a wheelchair, and Blake will push him around. True, he is excited to see something that's not the same four off white walls, it's not quite as exciting as going home. They stop to look at the babies, the way they always do. He smiles at them, and Blake smiles too. "Do you think you'll have children some day, Charlie?"

"I don't know." He admitted. "I'd like them, I suppose. But if something happens to me…" He murmured, before shaking his head. "Maybe."

"You get on quite well with children."

"I've had a lot of practice." He offered, "You've met my brothers."  
"I have, yes." Blake smiled, before they move on, towards a door this time, and outside. "It's a nice day out."

"Hm.' Charlie agrees, as they walk, he looks at the sky with intent, taking in every leaf on every tree, trying to make the most of being away from his empty hospital room. He notices a lot of other people have flower and cards. He has one card, from Lawson. One bunch of flowers from Jean and Mattie. The flowers died anyway so he tries to tell himself that he really doesn't mind.

He picks a flower off a bush as they pass by, and holds it in his lap, before picking all the petals off, and tossing them as they walk, to be crushed under Blake's shoes. Blake watches with worry, but says nothing for the time being, not wanting to intimidate the poor boy. They reach a bench, and as per usual, Blake comes to a stop. He sits, and watches Charlie take in the atmosphere around him.

"If I die, very suddenly, will you please plant flowers on my grave?"  
"Charlie, you aren't going to die. You've been out of danger for weeks."

"But if I do?"

"You won't."

"I could! I could get an infection, or fall out of the chair and into a pond, or..."  
"Charlie stop. You won't die."

"But-"

"No buts. You shouldn't be thinking like that." Charlie doesn't say much for the rest of the time they're outside. Blake caves in before he lifts Charlie into bed. "I will." Charlie doesn't reply verbally, because these trips leave him totally drained, but he doesn't put up a fight when Blake slides one arm under his legs and lifts him up onto the bed, and tucks him safely under the sheets. He considers that if Blake could keep him here forever, then he would.

It scares him that he would probably stay.

…

Eventually he is forced into the Blake house. He had wanted to go home to Melbourne, but the doctor insisted that he had to stay in Ballarat while he 'kept an eye on him' which Charlie figures is mostly just a nice way of saying 'you still need help bathing, I'm not sure your mother could handle you' but for the most he takes the good with the bad. The bad being the intense feeling of being unwelcome. Like a house guest who has stayed too long despite having only been here for one week. Mrs Beazley and Mattie don't hate him, as far as he can tell, but they aren't the doctor. They are nice to him, and if he smiles and says please then Mrs Beazley might bring him a glass of water, but there is no casual friendship, no attempts to connect, and he supposes that really it's for the best, because he won't be here forever, but that doesn't stop the wanting.

The good about the Blake house, is in fact Blake himself. Despite still finding himself annoyed at the doctor's over protective nature, for the most part, Charlie doesn't mind spending time with the fatherly man. He offers Charlie a level of comfort that may simply be from spending an extended amount of time with him, or perhaps something deeper. And for the first time in a long time, Charlie actually really enjoys spending time with him.

…

"Doc." Charlie sighed, as Blake leant over to his plate and started to cut the sausages Mrs Beazley had served him. "I do have hands." He commented.  
"I know you do, Charlie. But you're still meant to be resting them." Charlie rolled his eyes, but didn't actively try and stop the doctor. Mattie stares at him, and he looks away . Blake deems his meal edible now, and leaves him to eat, but not before patting him on the shoulder. Charlie can't help but wish that the hand was back as he tried to eat with only one hand.

…

Blake was the one who was mostly in control of where Charlie was at any one time. Charlie struggled to be used to having someone actually looking after him. He couldn't move himself from the chair to other seats so Blake would lift him if he ever needed to. When Blake arrived home from the station, Charlie was naturally the first out to see what he was up too. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at the bulging bag he was carrying. "Ah! Charlie."

"What's that, Doc?"

"I'll show you." Blake said, walking past Charlie and taking control of the chair.

"I have hands."

"I know, I know. Just humor me." Blake said, as they went into the kitchen. Stopping by the table, Blake tipped the contents of his bag on the table.

"It's film from the cinema."

"Yes it is."

"Why? I thought you didn't care for Kim Novak films?"

"She's a perfectly attractive young woman, but this isn't a Kim Novak film. It's sixteen mil. Not meant to be there."

"Ah."

"What are you gonna do?" Mattie sticks her head in the room, passing though with a book.

"Ah! Mattie!" Blake said, as Charlie looked at her as well. "What do you know about editing film?"

"What's all this?"

"It's film from the fire, sixteen mil, not meant to be there."

"Okay. What are you going to do with it?"

"We're going to clean it, cut away the damage and stick it together."

"With what?"

"Sticky tape."

"Why?" Charlie looks between the both of them.  
"Well I would assume because we're out of ideas." Mattie sighed, and put her book down.

…

"So...Where did you even get this?" He asked, handing Mattie the blanket to be put up over the door to Blake's mother's room. He'd never been in there, and he's probably leave Ballarat having never been in there.

"Evidence. "

"They kept it?"

"Hm." Mattie took hold of a damnable handles of the chair and pushed him back to behind the projector. Charlie rubbed at his slightly blistered fingers, hoping Blake wouldn't notice. He lacked the fine motor skills needed to clean the film, (Not that Blake would have trusted him with any kind of chemical anyway, given that he'd gone as far as confiscating his license just to make sure that he didn't 'set himself back' Charlie still has no idea how Blake expected him to drive with a broken leg. ) or to stick it together. So Blake set him to work cutting strips of tape. He's relieved to finally have something to do that's actually helpful. If Blake thinks that being helpful is hurting him then he has no doubt that he'll be back in bed. They're just about to start watching film when Jean and Richard arrives.

"What's all this, then?"

"Film from the fire."

"Sixteen mil, not meant to be there." He said helpfully, and a memory pulls at the back of his mind and he wants to put it out of his mind but he can't. Where had he seen a sixteen mil film projector recently? "We've managed to piece it together, and we're going to view it." He said, and Charlie still has a doubt in the back of his mind because something he's clearly repressed wants to come out. No matter how hard he chases after the memory it won't come. Just as Blake is about to press start on the projector, when he suddenly gasps.

"Charlie, what's wrong?" Blake asks, abandoning the reel to make sure his charge was okay. His good hand clenches three times and Blake is kneeling in front of him, "Charlie?" He asks again, "Come on, talk to me." Jean leads Richard away, and Mattie leaves as well, giving Blake and Charlie a moment of privacy. Suddenly Charlie struggles to get enough air into his lungs. His breath comes in choked gasps.

…

He sneaks away from the bar, no longer interested in the exploits of men with too much money, drink in hand, he decided to go and look for Tyneman's...Back room. He leaves his coat at the bar and adjusts the front of his pants as he walks. He regrets having anything to drink because he can't get the taste out of his mouth.

He notes a door with a note tapped to the front, reading 'Private: Keep out' and being the man that he is, Charlie disregards the note, opening the door and looking in. A sixteen Mil projector sits on the table, he narrows his eyes, and then from behind him, he hears Tyneman speak.

…

"Charlie? Come back to me!" Blake said, as Charlie's glassed over eyes look away from him. He has one hand on his fingers and the other on his shoulders. Charlie seemed to be having some kind of panic attack or flashback and something about his panicked breathing reminds him terribly of himself. "Come on." He said, as Charlie starts to breathe a little more normally. He lifts him from the chair and into his arms, it's hardly a problem, after spending so long immobile in the hospital he doesn't weigh half as much as he should, and onto the couch. "Charlie!" He said, trying his best to rouse the constable from his delirium.

"Doc?" It's soft and breathy and almost lost to his panting breathing. Blake pulls him into a hug, and Charlie finds his face in Blake's shoulder and can only breathe in air that smells like him (Aftershave, acetone, toothpaste and something so distinctly Blake that he cannot name it) and he finds himself absently wishing that all the air he breathes in for the rest of his life smells like Blake.  
"I'm here Charlie."

"Will you...Just..."

"Anything."  
"Just hold me?" It's soft and whispery and he's ashamed to admit that he just wants to be held but he can't help it. Blake nods and puts a hand on the back of his skull.  
"Of course." They sit like this until Charlie feels like the world has not sped up, and he sits back. He didn't even notice he was crying until Blake gently wipes away tears from his face. "What happened?" He asked, softly.

"I was trying to remember...Where I saw a sixteen mil projector recently."

"Oh?"  
"Tyneman had one...At that party." Blake frowns slightly, and then pulls Charlie against him for another moment, and then releases him.

"Do you think they're related?"

"Let's watch it and find out." Charlie said, after a long moment.

"Are you sure you can?"

'I'll tell you if I start to think I can't." Blake nods, and helps him back into the chair. "Thank you."

"I always help you with the chair, Charlie."  
"No...Just...Thank you. For doing all this for me, when all I ever did was cause trouble."

"You didn't always cause trouble, and it's the least I could do, when I sent you there." Blake hadn't, Charlie'd gone on his own merit. He says nothing until they start watching the film. Blake has one hand on his shoulder. He suddenly blurts out

"That's the room at Tynemans house!" Blake nods, and Mattie frowns.  
"Oh! That's...That's a girl!"

"What's she doing?" Jean asked. The nature of the film becomes evident, and Blake has to pause it,  
"Jean! Jean!" Richard watches her before looking at Blake.

"What the devil?" He shouts, before following after Jean.  
"Mattie?" Blake asked, softly, "Are you alright?"

"I know that birthmark." She said, softly. Charlie is astounded, but doesn't really have a reaction. He slowly just puts his head in his hands. Because he suddenly understands the entertainment Edward had planned.

…

Moving to crutches is a dream come true. Even if physical therapy is hard and leaves him sore, he doesn't care because he finally has moment again. He can move himself from place to place. And even if the best way to get down the stairs is to slide down on his behind, he doesn't care because finally, he has back something that was his. He hops as fast as he can around the place. He hops the length of the driveway and back almost ten times before Blake stops him and brings him inside.

'Inside the house, Charlie."

"One more Doc, Please?" He's aware that he sounds like a child, but he doesn't care. He just wants to keep moving. Blake looks at him with a slightly stern expression before nodding.  
"One more time, then you have to come inside before you wear yourself out."  
"I'd probably sleep better."  
"You're probably right, but I still want you inside before it's dark." Blake said, as Charlie hops off again. It's not like running, not how he used to, but it's something. It's a start. And as he hops back to Blake, the man is only illuminated by the light from the door behind him and the yellow-ish sunset. He hops back up the poach steps to him, and then gives him a hug very suddenly. "What's this?"

"It's a hug, Lucien."  
"Yes I know...You called me Lucien."

"That's what friends do, right? Call one another by their names?" Blake laughs and somehow manages to pick Charlie up off the ground and he laughs as well because for the first time in months, he feels happy. A real, good, happiness. As he sets Charlie on the ground again, (But doesn't break the hug because he can still feel Charlie's poorly healed ribcage shaking with breathless laughter) it occurs to Blake that his memory of a broken and twisted body more resembling corpse then the boy in his arms, is just that.

A memory.

A/N: Another fic down! I decided to go with two chapters, even if this one is close to 7,000 words :-O

Special thanks to Gibbsheroic26 for making sure I did actually finish this one, because I was tempted to leave it alone. As per always, leave a review if you liked it, and feel free to contact me with any comments questions or concerns, if you have them! (WIPS: So much Charlie!Whump...SO so much….)


End file.
